


White Out

by abbas_ragamuffin



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-20 20:50:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4801802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abbas_ragamuffin/pseuds/abbas_ragamuffin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a little one shot of Emma and Mr. Gold being snowed in together. It takes place in season 1, somewhere after 'Hat Trick' but before August reveals the curse. I know, I'm just playing with the timeline. Complete for now, may add more later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Out

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: So, I started this story last winter, just a silly little one shot of Emma and Gold snowed in together, then it kinda got away from me (like most things do). :) Enjoy.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time, or these characters, no matter how much I may wish I did.

If Emma Swan didn't know better, she might believe that her son was right – this town was cursed. At the town line, she sat in the dark of her yellow bug; no power, no heat, and no way home. It sounded more like the beginning of a bad horror movie – stuck in the pitch blackness with a broken down car in a snow and ice storm – alone – in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night.  _No one can leave this town_ … It occurred to her once again that they needed to install street lights on this road; first she almost hit the wolf, then she nearly ran down Jefferson, and now this.

The words  _'Leaving Storybrooke_ ' mocked her as a flash of lightning illuminated the street sign before her.

"What the hell?"  _Who ever heard of thunder and lightning during a snow storm?_ She jumped at the resounding crack of thunder as another flash of lightning split the sky. Pumping the gas pedal, she turned the key while praying desperately for a miracle. Still nothing, not even the click that signaled the battery had a tiny bit of power left. Of all the nights for her car to break down – of all the nights for her to be checking the town line – this had to be it.

Storybrooke was already isolated from actual society and, with all these trees surrounding the road she may as well have been stuck in the wilderness. It was just her luck. If it wasn't two in the morning – and if there wasn't a freak blizzard settled right over their town – Emma would have called for help over an hour ago when she got stuck. But with a wintry mix of snow and freezing rain, she couldn't even walk home. The roads, no doubt, were already one black sheet of ice – not to mention she'd likely freeze to death before she even got there.

"Come on!" Emma punched the steering wheel, instantly cradling her hand as sharp pain ripped through her wrist. Her hands felt frozen through, and she could feel a bruise already forming. She groaned, bringing her hands to her mouth and breathing warm air through her gloves, rubbing them together and then running them along her thighs. At the stiffening numbness of her muscles, her panic only increased as she realized she wouldn't last much longer out here.

As if on cue, a pair of headlights filled her rear view mirror. Her eyes narrowed, who else would be out here this late at night – and in this weather? Not that she cared; it meant she wouldn't freeze to death tonight. Although, it would've been good if she could prove to Henry that other people can and do leave Storybrooke, he's just not awake to see it.

"Please don't be Jefferson, please don't be Jefferson…" she prayed, resting her hand over her gun. She still hadn't found him, and she can just imagine him huddled in that house watching her every move through those telescopes.

A groan escaped her lips when none other than a black Lincoln town car pulled alongside her.  _Mr. Gold_ … _the only person worse than Jefferson_   _–_   _definitely the beginning of bad horror movie_. Of course it would be him to find her like this, as if she needed to owe him any more favors. He parked just slightly behind her, his headlights practically blinding her. He left the engine running, huddling under cover of an umbrella as he limped with impressive speed to her car. Opening her door, she gasped as she was hit with a blast of frigid air.

"Mr. Gold…" she greeted as icily as the weather. He rested his arm on her car door, covering both of them with the umbrella.

"Miss Swan, what on earth are you doing out here?"

"Oh, you know, it seemed like a good night to set up a speed trap. All you crazy drivers always in such a rush to leave this town…" she said sardonically, hugging herself to guard against the biting cold.

"How long have you been stuck here?"

"Who says I'm stuck?" she challenged, her voice harsher than she intended. There was a moment of silence, and somehow, Emma didn't need to see his face to know that smug, self-satisfied smirk was plastered on his lips.

"Well, the fact that your interior light is off while your door is open and your car  _isn't_  running in below zero temperatures. Would you like me to drive you home, or back to the station?"  _Yes_ …she screamed internally. Staying out here was not an option and they  _both_  knew it.

"Uh, no, thank you. I'll be ok…"

"Allow me to rephrase, I'm not leaving you here. The storm won't pass until the morning and judging by the lovely shade of blue on your lips, you'll freeze to death long before then…"

"Alright, if you insist…" she said with huff. Grabbing her cell phone and keys, she stepped from the car to his side. Her boot slipped as she her weight settled on her legs and she quickly gripped the car door to steady herself. The numbness of her muscles was worse than she thought. Gold had his arm stretched toward her, not speaking as she stepped along his side. Sharing an umbrella with Mr. Gold even if only for a few seconds is not something she ever thought she'd be doing.

"So what's this gonna cost me?" she asked as he opened the door for her.

"Contrary to popular belief, dearie, not everything I do has a price. I can be kind when I want to be." He closed the door for her as she buckled her seatbelt, setting her shivering hands over the heating vents. The contrast of the heat in his car was almost painful, no matter how comforting.

"But nothing is ever free with you…" she continued as he sat down, tossing the umbrella in the back seat.

"You almost sound disappointed." He gave her a sidelong glare. "I  _was_ going to take you wherever you wished to go, but very well. My price for helping you is that you must accompany me to my home, sit by the fire, and have some hot chocolate."

"No, that wasn't…" her voice trailed off with a huff, turning her gaze out the window. A fire sounded glorious as did the promise of hot chocolate. Mary had David over and it would be too cold in the station.

"Do you have a spare change of clothes at your house that I could borrow?" she asked in frustration, unable to look him in the eyes.

"Of course…" At that she turned, her eyes locked on his.

"No funny business…and no deals."

"Is that your way of saying you'd like to come back to my place?" he raised a suggestive eyebrow, putting the car in reverse. She held his gaze, narrowing her eyes.

"I can and will shoot you."

"I was only teasing, dear." He successfully turned them around on the narrow road, and Emma breathed a sigh of relief that they were on their way someplace warm. In the headlights Emma could only see a wall of white – blankets of thick fog combined with the heavy falling snow. It was a miracle he even found her.

The crunch of the snow beneath the tires filled the silence, grinding on her nerves. Even though she'd been rescued, there was a more than likely chance they could get stuck again. It felt as if they were driving in slow motion and she feared that the roads were just too bad. The thought of being stuck in a car all night with Mr. Gold was  _almost_  enough to make her think she would be better off walking.

"How did you happen to show up there right in the nick of time? Why were you even driving?"

"A little bird told me."

"Does this bird have a name?"

"Dove." Emma looked out the window knowing she would get no more out of him than that. "So tell me, what were you doing out there in the middle of the night?" Emma hadn't planned on needing to explain where she was going – she didn't even know herself.

"I was just…checking the town line." She said hesitantly. It wasn't an entirely a lie, but she omitted that she planned on checking beyond the town line.

"Then why weren't you in the police car?" She sighed with a shrug of her shoulders. She couldn't think of a lie, and at this point, she didn't even want to. "Planning on skipping town?"

"Even if I was gonna leave, I wouldn't just sneak out in the middle of the night. But I just…needed to get out, ya know? Just go to an overcrowded bar full of rude annoying strangers and just blow off some steam, or maybe even get in a fight."

"And that couldn't have waited a few nights until the blizzard passed?" he asked incredulously.

"When I left it was just a few flurries, the news didn't say anything about white out conditions." She argued.

"Well it would hardly be the first time they were wrong…" Gold said, "Must've been fate, then." Before she could respond another rumble of thunder caught her off-guard.

"Look, Gold, I appreciate that you are driving slow to keep us alive but the snow is actually accumulating faster than you're driving."

"Don't make me pull this car over, dearie."

"I'm sorry, alright? I just really don't want to get stuck out here…" she rubbed her gloved hands together.

"Nor I…" he paused for a breath, and Emma could feel him turn his head and stare at here. "Although if we do, I've read the best way to restore body heat is to curl up naked under a blanket with someone. Just say the word and I will pull this car over and happily oblige."

Emma gaped at him. It wasn't the first time he'd rendered her speechless and she somehow knew it wouldn't be the last. Though, that didn't much matter as she tried to ignore the image of being naked with Gold under a blanket.

"Are we almost there yet?" she asked in a huff.

"One more block to go."

It seemed to take forever, but as promised he turned left at the next block. Before she knew it they were outside the pink Victorian mansion, the only house on the block that still had lights on. They held onto each other in the fierce wind whipping across their faces, up the walk to the staircase that was layered in several inches of snow already. She stood huddled beside the door as Gold unlocked it, unable to get inside fast enough. She hopped several times, shaking the snowflakes from her coat and hair.

"Wait here; I'll go find you some clothes to change into." Emma nodded as he limped up the staircase, removing her boots and setting them by the door. She hung her coat on the rack, keeping the scarf wrapped tight around her neck.

Emma had only been inside his house once before, and then it was a mess after being ransacked. It was now immaculately clean, albeit somewhat cluttered with antiques. The house was a bit drafty but Emma practically ran to the fire already burning in the living room, removing her leather gloves as she stretched her hands towards the roaring fire. She knelt before it, soaking up all the warmth she could.

"Alright, I set a pair of flannels in the bathroom upstairs." He said as he descended the staircase, having already changed into a pair of blue jeans and a baggy sweatshirt. She'd never seen him in anything but those immaculate suits and it was just alarming to see him so dressed down.

"I hate to say it but you may have to spend the night." She met his gaze then, pulled from her thoughts at his words. He looked worried, more perhaps that she would be stubborn and demand to be taken home or refuse to stay here. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. The storm was only getting worse and she'd already been rescued once tonight.

"I appreciate the help." She said, stifling her pride. A genuine smile formed on his lips, not sinister or calculating, but warm and reassuring.

"My pleasure dear, now make yourself at home while I make us some hot chocolate." Emma didn't need to be told twice, rushing up the stairs to the bathroom where the promised flannels sat folded on the counter.

* * *

She had wanted to take a hot shower, but in someone else's home that just felt wrong – especially given whose home she was in. The flannel against her skin was soft and heavenly, the warmth already creeping up to her cheeks. Pulling on the thick, fuzzy socks was the final touch and she finally felt the cold seeping from her bones. Leaving her clothes in a small heap on the tile, she made her way back to the fireplace.

As she re-entered the living room she found him lighting candles, and beside him on the coffee table sat two steaming mugs of hot chocolate.

"Candlelight? The fire isn't hot enough?" he looked up, laughing lightly.

"The fire is just fine, dearie, but I can't get a signal on the TV or the radio. I suspect we'll lose power as well. Best to be prepared."

"Good thinking." She replied. He held out a mug to her and Emma wrapped her hands around it, allowing the heat to seep into her skin. She smiled to see the generous amounts of whipped cream and cinnamon melting along the rim of the mug.

"Your hand…" She glanced down to where the hues of black and blue colored her skin, the bruise spanning from her wrist to the base of her pinkie. She could barely feel it.

"Oh, it's just a bruise…punched the steering wheel a few times."

"A few?" He smirked at her.

She shrugged, "A lot."

"Would you like some ice…?" his voice trailed off as she glared at him, and in a moment, they dissolved into laughter.

"No, thank you; I've had my fill of ice tonight."

"As you wish…" he motioned a hand to the leather couch, indicating they sit down.

She smiled, and with slight nod, moved to sit on the floor before the fire. She scooped a dollop of whipped cream onto her finger, licking it off as she always did. It was still too hot to drink, but she kept her hands wrapped around it. Drawing one knee to her chest, she decided she wouldn't be leaving this spot for the rest of the night.

"Are you warm enough?" He asked behind her.

"Getting there…" Without warning he draped a plaid flannel blanket around her, rubbing her shoulders briefly before pulling away. "Thank you."

"My pleasure."

Pulling the blanket tighter around herself, she watched as he leaned heavily on his cane and sat on the floor beside her. For not the first time, she wondered how he injured his leg. She always imagined it was in the midst of some crime, a robbery or a mafia war. She wouldn't be surprised at all to learn that he had once been a mafia don, or the mastermind of a major crime syndicate. Although, when she ran his name through her computers, nothing came up.

From their first meeting to this moment right now, she's not sure she's ever encountered the same man twice – manipulative and cunning one moment, kind and compassionate the next. He was unpredictable, the only unpredictable thing in this town and that made him dangerous, and endlessly fascinating.

He had saved her life, she knew it, yet she struggled to say  _thank you_  as if saying those words would enslave her to him forever. He was an enigma, a roller coaster she couldn't quite seem to get off of, or more like a walk through a haunted house with those mirrors that distort everything. Nothing was what it seemed to be with Gold, that much she had learned.

"Were you expecting me tonight?" she teased him, taking her first sip of her hot chocolate. She swallowed slowly, relishing the burn on the way down as it warmed her from the inside out.

"Can't a man enjoy hot chocolate on a cold stormy night?" she giggled, having a hard time imagining the all-powerful Mr. Gold sitting in his castle and drinking hot chocolate.

"And the cinnamon?"

"It's a common spice used in many recipes. Am I being interrogated, Sheriff?" He raised an eyebrow as he studied her, a mischievous smirk on his lips.

"No, however, nothing you do is by accident."

"While I am flattered that you think me so powerful, not even  _I_  could manipulate the weather and cause your car to break down…" he said haughtily with a dramatic wave of his hand. She laughed at his sarcasm, and at her own suggestion. "Honestly, Miss Swan, there are much easier ways to get you into my home than this."

"You should hear the rumors about you…"

"Oh, I have," he said with a crooked grin, "Do you believe such nonsense?"

"Of course not, but you can't blame a girl for being suspicious." He didn't reply, and Emma returned her gaze to the fire.

As her panic ebbed and the adrenaline subsided, Emma was suddenly aware of how tired she was. In spite of her company, she felt safe. He wasn't a friend, she would never trust him, but there was something between them – a connection, an understanding, a mutual respect. She didn't know who or what he was to her, but in this moment she wasn't quite so afraid of him and she enjoyed joking with him without fear of death. Emma closed her eyes, listening to the crack and roar of the flames and the howling wind outside.

"It's so quiet here…"

"I'm sorry…"

"No, it's ok. I was just…making an observation." She gasped as the lights flickered, a low roar of thunder echoing in the distance.

"I take it this is your first thunder snow?" he asked calmly.

"What? That's an actual thing?"

"Indeed. It's a rare phenomenon." She huffed, shaking her head and not at all surprised. This town was a rare phenomenon in and of itself, one she wanted to escape from.

"Yea, well, this town is full of surprises."

"Do I detect a hint of bitterness, Miss Swan?" she shrugged as she sipped her cocoa, "I get the sense that Storybrooke has been somewhat dull for you."

She laughed. "Dull would have been an improvement. Don't you ever get bored?"

"Not since you arrived…" he winked at her with a smile.

"Oh, yeah, I spiced things right up." She said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. Her time here could be defined as one colossal mistake after another – this evening the perfect case and point.

"You did, Emma, whether you like to acknowledge it or not. You've changed things…for the better."

Her thoughts drifted once more to Jefferson, and how he believed she changed things. Henry believed that time began moving again once she arrived, while everyone else seemed entirely normal. But Henry was still miserable and lonely, as was everyone else in this town. Graham was still gone. Nothing had changed, not that she could see, anyway.

"It's been interesting, but sometimes I just worry…" she said softly.

"About what?"

"That I'm starting to believe my son…" A soft  _hmm_  escaped him as he nodded in agreement.

"Children can have that effect on us. Their faith is so complete, so innocent and pure it can make anyone believe just about anything. We try to become the heroes they see us as, and we try to shield them from the harsh truth of reality when we know we can't be."

She remembered the look in his eyes from an afternoon in his pawnshop months ago. The same far off glance was in his eyes as he offered her two walkie-talkies, telling her that children grow up so fast and before you know it, you lose them. She thought the statement odd then, but she didn't care enough about him to ask. She's not sure she cares anymore now, but she'd come to appreciate him as some kind of ally. A last resort, but an ally nonetheless and she was in desperate need of those.

"You had a child." She whispered, barely able to hear her own words.

He didn't look at her; he didn't take his eyes off the fire burning before them.

"Once," was his quiet reply. There was brokenness in his eyes that made her heart ache for him. It was a jarring contrast to the man she is so familiar with – the hard man, the untouchable, indomitable Mr. Gold. She swallowed the swell of emotion rising within her, feeling as though she was taking her life in her hands with her next question.

"What happened?" He looked at her then, but there was no hint of rage or malice in his dark eyes. They were searching, studying her as if she whispered a veiled threat in those two simple words. The man used people's secrets and weaknesses against them all the time, it's no surprise he expects the same in return. She held his gaze, and offered a small sympathetic smile.

"He's gone." He said as the sadness returned to his eyes, "I looked one day…and I had lost him."

"I'm sorry."

He forced a tight smile, casting his gaze to the ground.

"It was no one's fault but my own." The tension filled the space between them; it was obviously a sore subject. But Emma knows that he doesn't have anyone to talk to about it, either.

"Do you know where he is? Can you reach out to him?" she asked. Gold shook his head.

"I know he's here somewhere, but I don't even know where to begin searching."

"Well maybe I can help…finding people  _is_  kinda my thing." She offered, surprised to realize how earnestly she meant it. He was silent as he stared at her, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

"I just might take you up on that one day." They fell into silence once more, each lost in their own thoughts. For most people being a parent was blessing, but for them it was a source of pain and regret.

"I never held Henry..." she confessed softly. She didn't dare look at him, having never told anyone about Henry's birth. It was too painful a memory to dwell on. "I gave birth and I let them take him away. I never even saw him until he was ten years old. What kind of mother does that?" her voice was weak and tight with emotions she never let herself feel

"The kind who loves her child enough to do what's best for both of them." It was exactly what she needed to hear, his words validated her own justifications for giving Henry away. Though, it did nothing to make her feel better.

"When he brought me back here and I saw how miserable and lonely he was – it was exactly the life I  _didn't_  want for him. I was miserable and alone my whole life because I was actually alone and Henry was adopted and nurtured for years in one place and he still felt alone and miserable. Kinda can't decide which is worse."

"Perhaps they are both equally painful…and despite that, Henry loves you." A small smile formed at his quiet words. But she didn't reply as Gold held his breath, suspecting he had something more to say.

"I had fifteen years with my son. I got to hold him, comfort him when he was scared, and try to teach to be a better man than I was. I did a better job than I gave myself credit for, I think. A kinder, braver boy I never met…then I changed and he began to resent who I'd become. He wanted his father and even though I was right there,  _I_  wasn't there. I can't undo that, or even hope to fix it; be thankful you get a second chance with Henry."

"Do I? I've missed his whole life."

"Well, we can't change the past now can we?"

"No, but…"

"But nothing. Your son is here, now, you can hold him and be with him from now until his dying breath. Don't waste a moment you have together and don't let guilt or shame or anger control you while you're together." There was no anger or judgment in his words as he spoke to her, perhaps jealousy, but not judgment.

"I would if Regina would let me see him."

"Ah, yes, Regina…" he mumbled, as if he'd forgotten the woman who was actively keeping her from Henry. "Knowing how Henry's life turned out, would you go back and change anything?" Emma considered the question, having the burden of a child set on her shoulders at just eighteen.

"Honestly…no, I wouldn't. I was in prison, barely eighteen; I couldn't even provide for my own needs much less an infant's. And what did I know of a stable home? I never had a family. While I can't stand Regina, she provided for Henry better than I could. But in a perfect world, yes; I would have kept him and we would've made it despite the odds stacked against us."

"…But there is nothing perfect about this world." Gold finished for her, bitterness lacing his words. She nodded in agreement, studying the sharp angles of his face as he glared at the fire.

"Can I ask you something?" she asked boldly, leaving the topic of their children behind. 

"Of course, but don't be surprised if I choose not to answer."

"You are the richest man in Storybrooke. You own everything including this enormous house full of all this stuff. Are you happy? I mean, don't you get lonely or regret that you're so isolated?"

"One could ask you the very same question."

"I asked you first."

"Well, like most people, I do have my fair share of regrets. I'm not sure I would call myself happy, but I'm certainly not complaining. I've chosen to isolate myself. Though I'm sure you know what that's like…"

"We're nothing alike…" she said firmly.

"Is that so?" he challenged, "You've isolated yourself for years, just as I have done. The only real difference between us Miss Swan is that I have stayed in one place whereas you move from place to place – alone – only to leave as soon as possible."

It unnerved her how easily he could read her, as if he already knew all her secrets and was just waiting to share them with her again. She didn't want to give him any more ammunition against her.

"Sorry I gave you such a hard time earlier…" she said quietly changing the subject. A flash of realization in his eyes told her that he knew she was avoiding his question.

"It's quite alright. I expect nothing less from you." She smiled, relieved he wasn't pushing the way Mary tends to.

"You're not exactly what you seem, are you, Mr. Gold…" he laughed deeply, a sound she never imagined she'd hear from the man before her.

"I'm exactly how I seem, Miss Swan. I just like you." The blunt sincerity of his words caught her off guard.

"What does that mean?"

"It means you're my favorite." He repeated. Crossing her arms over her chest, she glared at him.

"And what does  _that_  mean?" He narrowed his eyes, an incredulous look upon his face.

"It actually just means that you're my favorite." She smiled then, almost laughing at being labelled as anyone's favorite.

"As your favorite can I get like, a lower rent payment or something?" she asked. He didn't even crack a smile.

"Funny, dearie, but no; I show no favoritism."

"I still don't trust you." she repeated.

"Fair enough. Although, I do hope to remedy that." She smiled, not wanting refuse him outright but not wanting to give him any hope that such a thing was possible. Trust was earned, and while he had done some things to help her, he of all people would need to earn her faith in him. Regardless, she can't imagine she'd ever trust him for anything.

The lights flickered once more and this time, they went out.  _Perfect, stuck in the dark with Mr. Gold._  She had hoped that the storm would disappear as quickly as it appeared and she wouldn't need to spend the night, but luck was not on her side it seemed.

"Well, now seems as good a time as any to retire." He picked up the candelabra, "Allow me to show you to your room."

She followed him to a spare room that was fairly bare save for a bed and dresser, elegantly decorated in navy blue hues.

"Thanks for everything." She said, standing in the doorway. He smiled in the candlelight and bowed his head toward her.

"It has truly been my pleasure. In the morning I'll arrange for a tow truck."

"Thanks again."

"Sweet dreams, Emma." She faltered at the use of her first name, a tiny thrill coursing through her.

"Sweet dreams, Mr. Gold."

Emma closed and locked the bedroom door, and promptly fell face first onto what had to be the most comfortable mattress ever created. She crawled up, resting her head on a downy pillow, enveloped in the warmth of a down comforter. In the morning, she would tell Mary of her horrible ordeal, and how she got stuck in the storm with Gold. Even if Emma told her that she had enjoyed his company, Mary would sooner believe that Emma had been placed under a spell, or maybe even drugged. If she could help it, she didn't want to talk about this at all and avoid the inevitable questions.

They both lost their children; both were isolated, guarded, and alone. That was the connection she felt with him – they were more alike than she wanted to admit, just as he had said. It was her last conscious thought before she fell asleep.

* * *

When she woke, she rubbed her eyes, slightly disoriented to her surroundings. She remembered soon enough as she looked out the window, her heart sinking at the bright white that replaced the normal landscape. Emma walked to the window in the bedroom, resting her head to the glass with a groan. The very top of Gold's black car was all the was visible, and across the street the houses were all covered in several feet of thick snow. So much for a tow truck, or even calling Mary; they were snowed in.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it. Reviews are always appreciated :) This is just a one shot for now, but I might include an epilogue.
> 
> Edit: I totally forgot to reference the "Community" reference toward the end of the story. It was inspired by this post on tumblr... http://enchantedgreendale.tumblr.com/post/70879627897


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